


Rain, Rain Go Away, Come Again Another Day

by Ytteb



Category: NCIS
Genre: Angst and Humor, Fluff, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-01
Updated: 2016-01-01
Packaged: 2018-05-10 22:00:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5602573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ytteb/pseuds/Ytteb
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On a rainy day in Washington, Tony and Gibbs have a serious conversation ... sort of. Most of the team mentioned even if they don't make an actual appearance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rain, Rain Go Away, Come Again Another Day

Special Agent Jethro Gibbs looked out of his kitchen window: it was raining hard, very hard. On the bright side that meant that the team event planned for that day would be cancelled but that didn't do much to lighten his mood. Gibbs hated the rain; too many bad things had happened on rainy days. He remembered the wet day on which Kate had died, the downpour on the evening that Mike Franks had been murdered and the thunder storm on the night his mom had died. Bad things happened on the days when there was what Ducky called a 'high level of precipitation.'

Yesterday had nearly been a bad day even if it had been bright and sunny without a cloud in the sky. Chasing after a crook, DiNozzo had taken a bad tumble down a rocky slope and had lain in a still and crumpled heap for an unnerving length of time. By the time Gibbs and McGee had picked their way carefully down to where their co-worker was lying, Tony was stirring and they could hear his groans and curses as they drew near. Tony had been lucky – again; no bones broken, no concussion but scrapes and bruises which promised to leave him stiff the next day. Ducky had pressed some new-to-the-market pain killers on him, insisting that they would not leave him all 'fingery'.

Gibbs had driven his senior field agent home, run him a hot bath and ordered in a pizza. He left just as Tony emerged slightly pink from his soak,

"See you tomorrow, Boss," had come Tony's voice from the bathroom, "weather's going to be perfect for the picnic!"

Gibbs had grunted noncommittally but Tony had chosen to interpret that as, "yep, can't wait."

Tony might be an excellent NCIS agent, but Gibbs reflected as he looked at the rain hammering against his window, he sucked at weather forecasting. He took a sip of his bitter coffee and went into his living room; perhaps he could read a book to distract himself from his sombre memories of wet days. The sound of a car door slamming made him look up and he saw a battered old station wagon pulled up outside. A diminutive elderly woman sat in the driving seat, a head of glossy black hair suggesting close acquaintance with hair dye. A pug dog was standing on its hind legs to peer out of the car window at … Tony, who was wrestling a huge wicker basket out of the car.

Gibbs stood mesmerised for a few moments as Tony, ignoring the rain beating on his head, waved a cheerful goodbye to the car's occupants. Gibbs noticed that the driver watched intently as Tony staggered up the path to Gibbs' front door and did not drive off until she had seen Tony open the door and walk in. From the doorway Tony continued to wave enthusiastically at the car even after it had driven off.

"Shut the door, DiNozzo!" barked Gibbs, "You're letting all the rain in!"

"Oops, sorry, Boss," said Tony, as he shrugged off his raincoat and shucked his shoes off.

"What you doing here, DiNozzo?" asked Gibbs.

"It's picnic day, Boss!" said Tony and he picked up his picnic hamper and held it out to Gibbs.

Gibbs jerked his head towards the window, "In this?" he said, "think again."

Tony looked honestly puzzled, "that's what Abby and McGee said," he replied mournfully, "you're such light weights." He seemed to replay what he'd said and realised this might not be a tactful way to talk to Gibbs. "Not you, Boss. You're not a light weight." He reflected again and thought this might also be taken the wrong way. "Not that you're fat, Boss. Fine figure of a man … not that I pay any attention to your figure, of course."

Tony seemed to have stopped thinking out loud so Gibbs took the opportunity to ask a question that was puzzling him, "Who was it who dropped you off?"

"Gloria," said Tony, "and Khartoum her pug. Not that Khartoum was driving, of course. He's more of a moral support."

"So you're on Gloria's good side at the moment, are you?" Tony's dealings with his irritable neighbour were often the stuff of Tony's early morning conversations in the squad room. He seemed to find as many ways to rile her as he then found ways to mollify her. The team were always glad when Tony was on Gloria's good side as she was a marvellous baker who liked to share her creations. Tony was surprisingly generous with the goodies she bestowed on her sometimes favourite neighbour.

"Yes, she saw me setting off this morning and insisted on giving me a ride."

"You were going to walk?" said Gibbs incredulously.

"Hey, I'd put my raincoat on," said Tony virtuously.

"It's miles," pointed out Gibbs.

"Oh, yeah," said Tony vaguely, still holding the basket.

Gibbs began to suspect something about Ducky's prescription of wonder pain killers. He peered a little closer, "Did you take the pain killers Ducky gave you?"

"Uh," said Tony apparently giving this careful consideration, "yeah. I don't think they work though. I was up all night. Couldn't sleep."

Gibbs looked again, he could see that Tony had the slightly squinty look he acquired when he was overtired. "DiNozzo," he said in a firm but gentle voice, "I'll run you back to your place, you can get some rest."

"No!" said Tony loudly, "it's picnic day!"

"Tony," said Gibbs reasonably, "we can't have a picnic today. Look at the weather."

"I know we can't have it  _outside,_ " said Tony in a determinedly sensible voice, "haven't you ever heard of an  _indoor_  picnic?"

Gibbs hadn't ever heard of an indoor picnic, he didn't think it was something people in Pennsylvania went in for but perhaps wealthy New Yorkers did? Gibbs tried another tack,

"We've got no food, Tony," he pointed out, "you were going to supply the picnic basket and the rest of us were going to provide the food."

"And it's a  _great_  picnic basket," said Tony enthusiastically, "remember that sander Senior sent me for my birthday? Well, I traded it in for a picnic basket. Jeanne liked my picnic basket," his happy smile faltered a little, "d'you like my picnic basket, Boss?"

"Yes, Tony," said Gibbs, still not sure what he was dealing with, "it's a very nice basket. But there's no food, so no picnic."

"I thought of that," said Tony triumphantly, "when I couldn't sleep last night, I made picnic food."

" _You_  made food?" asked Gibbs sceptically. He had taken a quick look in Tony's cupboards the previous night before ordering pizza; there had been very little that looked edible.

"Yes," said Tony proudly, "I went to the all night store and got what I needed. We've got ham sandwiches, snickerdoodles (from the recipe Senior gave me), the stuff to make s'mores, apples, bananas, pretzels, cheese, cold pizza, sausages, velvet cake, apple cake, Victoria sponge, double choc muffins and donuts." He counted each item off on his fingers as he spoke.

"You made all those different types of cake?" asked Gibbs, beginning to think that the painkillers were some sort of miracle drug.

"No-oh," giggled Tony, "don't be silly, Gibbs!" Once again, he seemed to do that odd sort of replaying of what he had said, "not that you're silly, Boss. That was a perfectly sensible thing to ask and a good deduction."

"And?" pressed Gibbs.

"And?" repeated Tony who seemed to have lost the thread of the conversation.

"So, who made the cakes?"

"Oh, glorious Gloria! When she heard we were having a picnic she insisted on giving us some cakes. But I made the snickerdoodles … but they're a bit burned," Tony said sadly, "so where shall we have the picnic, Boss?"

Gibbs resigned himself to an indoor picnic. He thought he should probably keep an eye on this somewhat frenetic version of Tony and reflected that, with Gloria having come up with the goods, it might not be such an ordeal. "How about the kitchen?" he suggested, "there's a table and everything."

Tony looked affronted, "you can't have a picnic at a kitchen table! You have to sit on the floor. I think we should have it here. You can light the fire to make the s'mores."

"It's August, Tony," said Gibbs, "I am not lighting a fire indoors in August!"

"Oh," said Tony in a disappointed voice, "we'll do without s'mores then." But then he continued brightly, "but it might stop raining and you can light one outside."

Gibbs looked at the grey sky outside and the rain still teeming down and thought an outside fire was unlikely but he decided not to voice this thought. Tony was kneeling in front of the fireplace and opening his basket. He brought out a red checked table cloth and spread it with a flourish. As he continued emptying the basket, Gibbs asked another question,

"How many indoor picnics have you had, DiNozzo?"

Tony paused to consider, holding the apple cake plate at a dangerous angle. Gibbs leaned forward to rescue it.

"Um, not many," admitted Tony, "but I had some with my Mom. She loved picnics and if it rained we'd have them at home instead."

"Where did you have them at home?" asked Gibbs.

"On the floor," said Tony as if it was obvious.

"Which room?" said Gibbs patiently.

"We had one in the ballroom once."

"The ballroom?" said Gibbs faintly.

"It was just a small ballroom," said Tony, "Senior said it hardly counted as one."

"Where else did you have them?" asked Gibbs, intrigued by this insight into the DiNozzo childhood.

"We had one in the orangery."

"What's an orangery?" asked Gibbs.

Tony frowned as he concentrated, "well, it's not orange," he said earnestly, "it's like a greenhouse … which isn't green … but bigger than a greenhouse."

"Of course," said Gibbs.

"I can't help it if we had a big orange greenhouse," said Tony a little petulantly, "I mean a greenhouse for growing oranges in. But we didn't."

"Didn't what?" asked Gibbs taking his turn in losing the thread.

"Grow oranges … or anything, really. Just some creepy ferns. But Mom said it was like having a picnic in the woods so it was cool really."

Tony shook his head as if to clear it and carried on unpacking his basket. He looked discontentedly at the spread, "I've forgotten something," he said.

"DiNozzo," said Gibbs, "you've got enough here to feed the five thousand!"

Tony continued to stare at the picnic, "No coffee!" he said,"I forgot your coffee. I'll go and get some, Boss." He jumped to his feet and seemed to be intent on going out into the rain to get Gibbs his caffeine.

"Tony!" shouted Gibbs, "it's OK. I've got some sodas. Sodas are what you have at picnics. _(In Pennsylvania)_ " he muttered to himself.

Tony seemed alert enough to be puzzled, "You're going to drink a soda, Boss?"

"Yes," said Gibbs firmly. In fact he felt in desperate need of coffee but he wanted to avoid giving Tony any stimulant which might keep him awake. He went into the kitchen and retrieved a couple of rather elderly sodas from his chiller.

"Don't shake it," he told Tony firmly as he handed him one. Tony's guilty flush suggested that Gibbs had guessed his intentions correctly.

"So what else did you do at these indoor picnics?" Gibbs asked as he accepted a ham sandwich.

"Mom was a real fan of Winnie the Pooh," said Tony unexpectedly.

"That's nice," said Gibbs through a mouthful of ham.

"You shouldn't eat with your mouth full," reproved Tony. Once again he seemed to replay his words, "I mean you shouldn't  _talk_  with your mouth full," he took note of Gibbs' raised eyebrow, "unless you want to, of course, Boss _."_

"So, did you have Winnie the Pooh at your picnics?" asked Gibbs, picturing a young Tony holding a Pooh toy.

"No, we only had the books," said Tony, "but we used to pretend that we were having a picnic in Fifty Acre Wood."

"Hundred Acre Wood," corrected Gibbs without thinking. At Tony's surprised look he went on, "they were some of Kelly's favourite books."

"Oh," said Tony. He looked as if he would have liked to say something but concentrated instead on a double choc muffin.

Gibbs was glad Tony didn't say anything, it was out of character for Gibbs to talk about his lost family but this comment had slipped out. It didn't look, however, as if Tony was going to take advantage.

"Boss?" said Tony, after a long pause.

"Yes?" said Gibbs warily.

"Have you ever noticed that everyone's a character out of Winnie the Pooh?"

"No," said Gibbs honestly, "I can't say I've given it much thought."

"I have," said Tony, rather unnecessarily.

"I guess you've seen the movies a lot?"

"No, not really," said Tony unexpectedly, "I prefer the books to the movies."

Gibbs wished he had a recorder to hand, he didn't think he had ever heard Tony say he preferred a book to a movie.

"Ducky's Owl," said Tony as if it was obvious, "although Owl gets his words wrong sometimes and Ducky never does. And," said Tony leaning forward to speak confidentially to Gibbs, "I don't think Owl is as clever as he thinks. But Ducky  _is_ as clever as he thinks."

"What about Palmer?" asked Gibbs.

Tony looked a bit puzzled, "I don't know," he said in a tone which suggested he'd given this a lot of thought, "I think he might be one of Rabbit's friends and relations. Although he might be Rabbit. But Rabbit's a bit bossy and I don't think Jimmy's bossy, do you?"

"No," agreed Gibbs, and stretching his mind back to days of reading the books to Kelly, suggested, "wasn't there a beetle? Who got lost?"

Tony beamed at his Boss, "See, that's why you're the Boss. You  _see_ things. And that's good, because it means that Vance … I mean, the Director, can be Rabbit." Tony sighed contentedly and took a bite out of a donut.

"I think Abby is Kanga," Tony continued, "'cos she wants to look after everyone."

"She could be Tigger," offered Gibbs, wondering how on earth he had got into a discussion on characters out of Winnie the Pooh, "on a day when she's had too many CafPows."

"Hmm," said Tony thoughtfully, "Ziva thought I was Tigger. Because I'm bouncy sometimes."

Gibbs shook his head, he had another idea.

"What about McGee?" Gibbs asked.

"He's  _Christopher Robin_ " said Tony as if it was obvious.

Gibbs found himself considering McGee's character and thought that Tony was probably right. Christopher Robin always wanted to do the right thing but occasionally did something completely unexpected or could be so hot on the trail of something that he forgot the practicalities.

"What about me?" Gibbs asked.

Tony went red and looked a bit embarrassed; he seemed reluctant to give an answer so Gibbs supplied one, "I guess I'm Eeyore," he said.

"You're not  _always_  grumpy," said Tony kindly, "and everyone likes Eeyore really. He's got lots of buddies," he leaned forward and patted Gibbs on the shoulder in a friendly way.

"And what about you, Tony? Who are you?"

"Well, if I'm not Tigger … although I'd quite like to be Tigger because Tigger is always happy. But," he continued, "I don't like extract of malt. Mom used to try and make me eat it, but I wouldn't. So I'd rather not be Tigger."

"OK," said Gibbs, "not Tigger."

"McGee would say I'm Winnie the Pooh," said Tony.

"Why?"

"Because I'm a federal agent of very little brain," said Tony sadly.

"I don't think you're Winnie the Pooh," said Gibbs firmly.

"So who do you think I am?" asked Tony hopefully.

"Piglet."

"Oh," said Tony, patting his stomach, "I suppose I do eat a lot," he put his second slice of Victoria sponge down half eaten.

"Piglet," said Gibbs, "is the underrated character but he's loyal and clever and he gives things up for his friends. Do you remember when Owl's house blew down? Piglet gave up his house because Owl wanted it. That's the sort of thing you'd do for your friends, Tony."

"Oh," said Tony in a pleased voice, "but I don't want to wear a stripy sweater. Not a good look on me."

"OK," said Gibbs soothingly, noting that Tony was still a bit cross-eyed but his eyelids were beginning to droop.

Tony jerked himself awake, "Hey, Boss, that means we haven't got a Winnie the Pooh. That's not right."

Gibbs got up, knees cracking, and went to the bookshelf. He took a book down, "Tell you what, Tony, why don't you look at the book again and see if it gives you any ideas."

"On it, Boss," said Tony, "on it."

"Just going to the head, Tony," said Gibbs, as he left the room. He waited a few minutes and then went back, smiling with satisfaction as he saw that Tony had finally fallen asleep against the couch.

Gibbs hit speed dial #2 on his cell, "Ducky," he said, when the call was answered, "those painkillers you gave DiNozzo … don't prescribe them again. Ever. Please."

Ducky promised to come and check Anthony over. Gibbs turned back to where DiNozzo slept contentedly on, he quirked a half-smile as he thought over the conversation he and Tony had just had. Perhaps, he reflected, good things happen on rainy days after all.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written on a rainy day ... and it's raining here today.
> 
> I don't think Winnie the Pooh makes many appearances in NCIS stories!


End file.
